


Harry Potter and the Prank War

by moonyschocolate



Series: Happy Harry aka No Voldy Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Desi Harry Potter, Desi Potter Family (Harry Potter), Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, F/M, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, I don't know what else to tag, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, James and Lily are divorced, James is remarried, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew Didn't Betray James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, Slow Burn, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), and Peter is a good guy, basically fuck Lucius Malfoy, because neville deserves more, but its not the golden trio, harry has a sister and two younger half-siblings, its the golden quartet, like extremely slow burn, sorry if that's not your cup of tea, they don't get together until like the fourth installment of this series, well technically I guess there WAS a Voldemort but he was defeated before he ever did any real harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonyschocolate/pseuds/moonyschocolate
Summary: Voldemort was defeated before he was ever a real threat, millions of magical lives were saved, and the Wizarding World now lives in peace— mostly.Blood prejudice still runs rampant due to Voldemort’s evil ideologies that still linger in the minds of his former followers, and when Harry Potter rejects Draco Malfoy's offer of friendship over the use of slurs and outdated, harmful ideas, he inadvertently sets off the biggest prank war that Hogwarts has seen since the Marauders.Instead of an easy, peaceful First Year, Harry and his four friends now get to put up with hexes, jinxes, and rancid potions slipped into their pumpkin juice by Malfoy and his little gang. Though, none of this worries Harry, as he is confident that he will win this war due to the Marauder blood that flows through his veins... and it helps that his Uncle Sirius is always keen to owl him new prank ideas.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Original Female Character(s), Peter Pettigrew/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, but the drarry isn’t present in this book bc theyre literal children, james and lily aren’t together anymore
Series: Happy Harry aka No Voldy Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963243
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm basically just doing everything that terf r*wling was too much of a p*ssy to do. Meaning, making Harry happy, along with adding in all of the LGBTQ+ ships that we love and POC characters. oh, and NOT EVERY SLYTHERIN IS EVIL.
> 
> A huge thank you to [Emma](https://insanemreads.tumblr.com), my lovely beta who has listened to all of my ideas and encouraged me throughout this process. I likely wouldn’t have been posting this without them!
> 
> A little heads up, I will use a few Bengali words throughout this fic, but I’m not well versed on the language. I did some deep research to try and make sure that I was correct in what the words were translated as and meant. If you speak Bengali and notice any mistakes, please let me know!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is in for a less than pleasant interaction with Draco Malfoy and worries over which House he'll be sorted into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, i have been working on this since August,,, it’s crazy to think that I’m only now putting out the first chapter in mid October. this fic has been crafted during a repeated loop of Yuri on Ice and My Hero Academia, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. So, thank you to Yuuri, Victor, Yurio, Midoriya, Ochaco, Iida, Bakugou, etc. for being the background noise to the clicking of my keyboard for the last two months; may we have many more months of writing and rewatching to come.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

The morning of September 1st, 1991 was a calm one. The street below Harry Potter’s bedroom window was quiet save for the soft chirping of birds and the whistling breeze that floated in through the wire screen and blew the green curtains to and fro. It had been nearly two months since Harry had aroused from his sleep so serenely and he couldn’t be more thankful.

Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely loved the time he spent with his father, step-mother, and younger half-siblings, but he also relished in the quiet of his mother’s small cottage, occupied only by him, his mother, and his younger sister, Amaryllis (—though she wouldn’t hesitate to illegally hex you if she caught you calling her anything other than Amy). 

His time at his mother’s house was such a stark contrast to his time at his father’s. At Lily’s house, his stays were filled with quiet movie nights, baking sweet treats and (— in the winter) taking trips down to the local pond to ice skate and drink peppermint hot chocolate. Overall, it was a very muggle-like existence. That’s what the majority of his year looked like, but when summer came along, that meant it was time to stay full-time at his father’s house in Upper Flagley, and if his time at his dad’s house was one word, Harry would call it chaotic. 

His days often began with his younger half brother and sister jumping up and down on his bed, yanking his hair and trying to shove his glasses onto his face in attempts to wake him up. Monty and Priya were only four, so their combined amounts of energy and loudness were by far something to behold. Harry often found himself feeling one of two ways around the pair: overwhelmed or absolutely exhausted (— and sometimes even a wondrous, magical mixture of both). 

He loved them just as much as he loved Amy, but the two could be quite the handful. Oftentimes, it would take their mother singing them lullabies for hours to get them to settle down enough to take a nap. In that way and many others, Harry’s stepmother, Suki, was a complete angel. 

It had taken the boy a while to warm up to the woman, but one could hardly blame a four year old for not liking a woman that he felt was trying to replace his mother. It took a couple months, a little chat between him and Suki, and a giant plate of mooncakes for him to finally open up to allowing another person into his life as a mother figure, but before long, Suki became a very important person in Harry’s life. He saw how happy that she and James were together, and he couldn’t have been more grateful to Suki for loving him and for giving him two more younger siblings. 

“Harry, darling!” 

Lily’s voice dragged Harry out of his reveries and caused his head to snap to where his door was slightly ajar. Suddenly, it swung open, nearly smacking into the wall behind it.

“Mum was yellin’ to you,” Amy said around a yawn as she adjusted the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers t-shirt she wore as a nightgown, which had fallen askew over her shoulder due to how oversized it was.

Harry rolled his eyes as he reached for his round spectacles that sat on the end table next to his bed. “I heard. I may be practically blind, but I’m not deaf. And is that my new shirt?”

“It’s mine now, four eyes,” Amy said cheekily before she began to flounce away in the direction of the kitchen. “Baba says sharing is caring. What’s yours is mine, and all that rubbish.”

Harry got up to scurry out of his room, close on his sister’s heels. “So what’s yours is mine, too, right? If we’re going according to what Baba says, at least.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, I think that’s totally how it works!” Harry retorted heatedly as he and Amy entered the kitchen to see their mother bent over the stove, spooning baked beans onto three separate plates that were already chock full with the rest of the fixings for a Full English breakfast. “Mum, tell Amy to give back my Power Rangers shirt!”

“Amy, that’s your brother’s shirt,” Lily sighed in exasperation, more than likely not wanting to start the morning off listening to her children argue— a common theme amongst the two eldest Potter children. 

“Not my fault he left it lying around to be claimed by anyone.”

“You little—”

“Okay!” Lily exclaimed, interrupting a very choice word that was about to fall from Harry’s lips. She set two of the plates on the table, beckoning for Harry and Amy to sit down. “Hush and eat your breakfast before I Floo your father and tell him how the two of you are bickering.”

Harry snickered as he sat down and picked up his fork. “If we’re being quite honest here, Mum, I think Baba would encourage the bickering. He says it entertains him.”

Lily narrowed her eyes at her son’s smug expression. “Then I’ll Floo Suki.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “No need for that, we’ll stop.”

He was backed up by Amy nodding furiously and shoving a spoonful of beans into her mouth. Suki was delightful, don’t get Harry wrong, but you didn’t want to get on her bad side. Being on the wrong end of one of her hour-long lectures was completely dreadful and Harry didn’t want to be forced to deal with that the morning he started at Hogwarts.

“That’s what I thought,” Lily smirked proudly as she set her own plate down at the kitchen table and joined her children in eating breakfast. “Now hurry up and eat, we’ve no time to dawdle. Harry, you have to catch the train by precisely ten, and your father and uncles want to meet you there to see you off beforehand.”

With a newly instated pop of energy, Harry followed Amaryllis and began shoveling heaping forkfuls of his breakfast into his mouth, chewing as quickly as he could.

“Careful, now, don’t choke or you’ll never make it to Hogwarts!” Lily exclaimed with a laugh as she watched her son fondly. “You father wouldn’t be too happy with me if you died before he could wave you off on the train.”

-

Luckily enough, Harry did not end up choking on his breakfast, and he, Amy, and Lily ended up arriving at King’s Cross in their sunshine-yellow ‘77 Chervrolet Vega (— also known as Lily’s third child) at precisely 9:30 A.M. 

“C’mon, darlings,” Lily sang as she ushered her children closer to where the enormous Hogwarts Express was sitting idle on the tracks, puffing smoke and accepting passengers into its belly. “Your father said that he would be meeting your uncles here at half nine, so they’re probably waiting for us already.”

“Uncle Moony’s here?” Amy exclaimed in delight, a new pep in her step at the mention of her favorite uncle. 

Lily nodded as she tightened her grip on the girl’s hand, not keen to let her slip into the crowd and get lost in pursuit of Remus. “Yes, and so is Peter and Sirius, so you’d better be a good girl and give them hugs before you get to your chattering with Remus.”

Harry knew that his sister was prone to gravitate more towards their Uncle Remus due to their mutual love of all things books and chocolate, just like he was more inclined to be close to Sirius due to how plainly cool the man was. Whenever the couple would come ‘round to visit, Harry could spend hours talking to Sirius about his motorbike while his sister would sit on the couch, snuggled up to Remus’s side reading a book and sipping hot chocolate. Peter, on the other hand, always seemed to be bombarded by the twins and begged to play dollies or race cars with them.

Harry jostled a bit as the wheel of his trunk snagged on an uneven piece of ground, but before he could tumble to the cement, a strong pair of brown arms latched themselves around his small torso. 

“Woah, there, Prongslet, don’t wanna go to Hoggie-Warts with a busted nose, do ya?”

A grin broke out onto Harry’s face as he recognized the orotund voice immediately, looking up to see James’s jovial smile, mess of black curls, and thick glasses. “Baba!”

“Hello, Prongslet,” James replied fondly as Harry crashed into his arms and buried his face into the man’s chest. “I’ve missed you and your sister so much.”

“You saw us just a couple days ago,” Harry murmured against his father’s sturdy chest, not quite wanting to unattach himself from the man yet. He took a moment to breathe in James’s scent— a distinct aroma of the cleaning oil he used on his broom and mooncakes that Suki had undoubtedly baked that morning. Harry’s stomach grumbled with envy over the fact that he had missed his favorite treat. 

“Seems like a lifetime, though, doesn’t it?,” James chuckled as he ruffled Harry’s untameable black locks; a near mirror image of his own grey-streaked mop. “Especially since there’s no one to help me watch the twin terrors whilst Suki’s at work anymore.”

“Maybe if you got a job that was more than sitting at home and brewing potions, you’d have an excuse to hire a nanny, Prongsy.”

“Uncle Sirius!” Harry exclaimed as he wrenched himself out of James’s grasp, instead throwing himself into Sirius’s tattooed arms. 

“Hello, Prongslet,” Sirius spoke fondly as he wrapped Harry up in a tight hug. Harry pulled away and took a second to drink in Sirius’s appearance, noting the changes that had occurred in the two months since he had last seen the man. Typically, he and Amy saw all of their uncles at least once every couple of weeks, but Sirius and Remus had decided to travel the States over the summer months whilst Remus had time off from his job as a muggle school teacher. It seemed as though Sirius had taken advantage of his vacation and now proudly boasted two new piercings— one through his nose and a bar going straight through the cartilage of his ear. 

“Hello, Haz,” Remus greeted Harry easily, from where he had Amy glued to his torso in what appeared to be a crushing embrace. Remus was a stark contrast to his partner. Whereas Sirius was shorter and far more stocky in stature with long, wavy ink-colored hair, Remus stood as tall as Big Ben and was far more lithe with grey-streaked caramel hair that curled around the tips of his comically large ears. And whilst Sirius’s alabaster skin was painted with ink of all colors and littered with various metal piercings, Remus’s olive complexion was marred only by a smattering of dark freckles and near-white scars streaked all over his body. 

“Hey, Uncle Remus,” Harry smiled at the scrawny man who was enveloped in Amy’s embrace as he moved on to hug Peter who was just finishing up with greeting Lily. Peter was a short man— the shortest of their group, which was something Sirius took glee in always bringing up though he himself was only an inch taller than the other man. Harry always took comfort in Peter’s jolly smile and rosy cheeks, as well as the moderate amount of pudge that rounded his torso and reminded Harry a bit of the fictional figure that delivered Muggles gifts on Christmas— Santa Claus, Harry recalled the man’s moniker was. 

“Hi, Uncle Pete,” Harry greeted the man pleasantly whilst embracing him quickly, his small arms struggling to wrap all the way around Peter’s torso.

“Hiya, Harry,” Peter grinned at Harry jovially as they pulled away from their hug. “How was your summer?”

“Chaotic,” Harry breathed out as he stood back, remembering how tiring his younger siblings could be. “Chaotic, but good. Though, I’m pretty excited for it to be over, too.”

James pulled Harry into his side and began to ruffle his already-messy hair. “Prongslet, here, is ready to get sorted into Gryffindor, isn’t that right?”

As Harry nodded eagerly up at James, Lily butted in pointedly. “But, it's perfectly okay if you don’t get sorted into Gryffindor, Harry. Isn’t that right, James?”

James gulped nervously with a sheepish smile. “Well, of course that’s just fine, Lilyflower. Whatever house Harry gets sorted into doesn’t matter.”

James turned to look down at Harry, resting a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter where you end up, little lad. I’ll still love you all the same. Plus, even if you do somehow get sorted into some nasty house like Slytherin, you’ll still be good at heart. Nothing like Malfoy’s bratty little thing.” James accompanied the final sentence in his ‘pep talk’ by glancing distastefully over Harry’s head at something (or rather someone) behind him. 

Harry craned his neck and followed his father’s line of vision to see a tall, long-haired blonde man standing next to a prissy woman who was fussing over a toe-headed little boy’s jumper— the Malfoy family.

All Harry knew about them was that James despised the tall man. He always made a spectacle of glaring at Mr. Malfoy whenever they crossed paths in the streets of Diagon Alley, though Suki was always quick to smack her husband upside the head and berate him for the childish behavior. 

Mrs. Malfoy— Narcissa, Harry knew her name was— was his Uncle Padfoot’s estranged cousin. Though Harry didn’t have much of an opinion on the woman, it always unsettled him how she constantly had her nose stuck high in the air like she was smelling something horrid. If it weren’t for the lemon-puckered lips and eternally furrowed brows, Harry might’ve thought her to be beautiful with her two-toned hair and alabaster skin. 

“Promise me something, Prongslet,” James murmured softly, his gravelly voice pulling Harry’s eyes away from the Malfoys. “You need to be careful around that kid. He’s no good, just like his horrid family.”

“Isn’t he related to Sirius?”

James sighed in exasperation, his eyes flickering briefly to where Sirius snickered at Remus and Peter’s sides. He turned his chestnut-colored gaze back to his son. Harry didn’t think that he’d ever seen such a serious look on James’s face. He was used to seeing mirth and mischievousness dancing in the man’s crinkled eyes, so the hardened and serious look that he was currently sporting was something odd and new. 

“Well yes,” James began, his gaze playing a dizzying game of back and forth between Harry’s face and something over Harry’s head— which the boy assumed was the Malfoy family again. “But, they’re different. The Malfoys think differently than us— they have different mindsets and morals. They think of Muggles and Muggleborns beneath them and they aren’t shy about their distaste for those of non-pure blood.”

“So they wouldn’t like me, or Amy, or Monty and Priya?” Harry asked, his eyes crinkled in confusion before they widened in realization. “They wouldn’t like Mum or Suki? But Mum and Suki are the best and they’re not Purebloods.”

James sighed slightly before straightening back out from where he was leaned down to Harry’s eye level. “I don’t want you to worry yourself with that rubbish, Haz. Maybe I’m overreacting and the kid’s nothing like his parents, but I just want you to be careful.”

Though he was still confused as to how anyone could possibly hate another for the type of blood that flowed through their veins, Harry nodded slowly. “I’ll be careful, Baba.”

“Good lad,” James smiled brightly, the spark returning to his dark eyes. At the sound of the train’s whistle blowing shrilly, he looked around at the children scrambling to make it to the train before it started to chug away towards Hogwarts before his gaze turned back to Harry. “Now give your old man a hug before you end up missing your ride.”

Harry took his time with his goodbyes. He wrapped his arms tightly around each family member (— even Amy, though she looked like she’d rather be anywhere but in her brother’s arms), taking his time with each person. He knew that he’d see his father every once in a while, as the man enjoyed observing the occasional Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match. He used to bring Harry along with him, but now that the boy was an official Hogwarts student, he would be there for every single game. It was an exciting prospect, considering how much he loved the sport. One of his earliest memories was of Sirius and Remus gifting him with a small toy broom for his birthday. He could recall riding it barely a foot off the ground and zipping through the house all day, much to his mother’s chagrin and his father’s amusement. As he got older, his father taught him how to properly ride and, if Harry did say so himself, he was fairly good at it. 

Finally, Harry found himself entangled in a hug with his final family member— his mum. Lily held him tightly, her thin arms finding their way around his back and her red-painted nails digging into his shoulder blades. It was almost painful and he feared that they would tear straight through his new uniform (— he took a moment to thank Merlin that he hadn’t put on his new robes yet), but he relished in the embrace, as he knew it would more than likely be the last one he got from Lily until his Christmas break. Finally, as the Hogwarts Express gave one of it’s final warning screeches, Harry was forced to let go of his mother.

He felt tears prickle in the inner corners of his eyes as he looked at his mother’s face, seeing that her eyes (the mirror image of his own, as he was frequently told) were also brimmed with tears that were just waiting to be shed. He commended her silently for her ability to hold together her emotions so well. James, on the other hand, could be heard weeping unabashedly from where he clutched to Sirius’s side; a bit over dramatic, yes, but Harry knew that his father was always one for theatrics.

“You’re gonna do so well, darling,” Lily murmured softly, her melodic voice shaking the slightest bit. “I already know how proud you’re going to make your father and I.”

Harry couldn’t stop his tears from falling upon hearing that, so he made the decision to pull his mother back into another embrace, this time with his father joining in and wrapping his arms around both his son and his ex-wife, burying his nose into Lily’s hair and heaving in a great sniffle.

Harry cringed at the grotesque noise as his mother groaned, nudging at James’s chest with her denim-covered shoulder. “Ugh , James, that’s completely repulsive. Get off before I have snot all over my jacket. If it’s already on there, you’re paying for me to have it cleaned the Muggle way.”

James chuckled as he pulled away, keeping a tight arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t be such a fussbudget, Lils, I’m just getting a wee emotional. My first born's going off to Hogwarts, after all!”

Lily laughed in a way that sounded as though it was meant to be the melody of a beautiful song. “Then why don’t you go snot all over your precious first born instead of me, huh?”

“Sounds like a plan!” James exclaimed with a mischievous glint in his eyes— one that Harry knew all too well.

“Baba, don’t you dare—”

Before Harry could get another word in, James was going in for the attack and playfully rubbing the tip of his nose along the top of Harry’s head and his fingertips were digging into the boy’s ribcage, causing him to squeal in laughter. Just like that, the previously somber mood had broken and Harry was left feeling lighter and much less gloomy than he had just mere moments ago. Cheering others up was definitely one of his father’s superpowers. 

As Harry’s laughter died down, he saw his father’s mirthful expression fade into a soft smile before the man pulled him into one quick, final hug. “I’m going to miss the absolute hell out of you, little lad.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Baba,” Harry whispered, his voice muffled by the scratchy wool of James’s jumper as he pressed his face into the man’s broad chest. 

James ruffled his hair one last time before pulling away and stepping back slightly. He let out a heaving sigh that shook his shoulders before putting on a brilliant smile that Harry knew was a bit of an act, as he could see the sadness in the man’s gaze.

“I guess that this is it, Prongslet,” James murmured as he grabbed the handle of the trolley that held Harry’s trunk and his owl, Hedwig’s cage. “Time to get you on the train.”

-

Barely fifteen minutes later, Harry found himself walking down the train’s corridor and watching as the other students excitedly scrambled towards compartments, babbling with their friends and squealing with glee. Harry could understand their excitement— he was feeling it himself, as well, but he couldn’t banish the lingering feeling of anxiousness and nerves in the pit of his stomach.

He knew that his parents had told him that it didn’t matter what House he was sorted into, but he couldn't help feeling as though his father would be displeased if he were to be sorted into Slytherin. Sure, James had reassured him that he wouldn’t be angry or disappointed so long as Harry were to stay true to who he was on the inside, but the boy knew that his father was banking on him being a Gryffindor. 

Harry’s palms began to perspire just thinking of the horrid letter he would have to send home should he be sorted into the House of Snakes. Since his nerves had gotten the best of him, he didn't hear the voice calling his name from just a couple of compartments up the corridor. In fact, he didn’t realize that anyone was trying to get his attention until he was grabbed by the sleeve of his jumper and yanked forcibly through a compartment door.

Harry was rearing up to yell at whoever had pulled him into the compartment until he saw a flash of ginger hair and a smile full of crooked teeth.

“Gosh, Harry, I yelled your name about three times and you looked like you didn’t even hear me!” Ron Weasley exclaimed, a confused furrow to his brows and a seemingly permanent red tint beneath the freckles on his cheeks. “Have you got gum in your ears or summat?”

Harry chuckled slightly at his friend’s bluntness. “Nah, sorry, mate. I’m just a bit worried over the Sorting Ceremony.”

A shudder wracked through Ron’s body. “Fred and George told me that you have to fight a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Harry chuckled. Fred and George, two of Ron’s older brothers, were always playing tricks on him, but this one had to take the cake. “Ron, I really don’t think that’s how it goes.”

Ron shook his head violently. “Normally I’d be inclined to agree with you, but Bill and Charlie both said it was true.”

“And what did your parents and Percy say?” Harry questioned, knowing that all of Ron’s brothers were just ganging up on him to make him scared, but his parents and Percy would never entertain such outlandish lies.

“Well, I didn’t say anything to Mum and Da about it,” Ron began slowly, realization filling his brown eyes. “And Perce did call me a gullible dunce when I brought it up… Fred and George tricked me didn’t they? And Bill and Charlie were just playing along.”

“Ding ding ding,” Harry laughed as he collapsed into the seat across from Ron, kicking his feet up to prop them next to where Ron sat. “On a different note, where’s Nev?”

Ron shrugged. “No clue. I saw him with his family while I was boarding the train. I was gonna say hullo to ‘im, but his grandma was pinching his cheeks, so I figured I’d leave him be.”

Harry cringed in sympathy for Neville. The boy always spoke of how much he dreaded trips to his grandmother’s house, as the strict woman always berated him on the silliest of things. For example, she would always lecture Neville on how much he ate, or how he dressed, or the way he didn’t know the difference between a supper and salad fork. And then she would move on to Neville’s father and berate him for not correcting Neville’s horrendous habits, which always resulted in the man’s wife, Alice, getting angry. Then a fight would break out between the two women, which ended in either Frank corralling his wife and son in order to take them home, or his angry, old mother storming off. Harry had been lucky enough to bear witness to such an event exactly once. It had been at a Christmas Eve party his father and Suki had thrown at their manor. By the end of it, Harry could confidently say that he harbored a new fear of Augusta Longbottom and her gaudy vulture hat. 

“You were thinking about that Christmas party, weren’t you?” Ron chuckled as he nudged at Harry’s knee with the tip of his shoe. 

“How could you tell?” Harry asked sheepishly as he twiddled with the sleeve of his grey jumper.

Ron tilted his head with a small smirk pulling on his thin lips. “Cause you had the same exact look on your face that you had when the old bat was raising hell at your party that year. Neville really does have a barmy grandmother, doesn’t he?”

Harry nodded in agreement before his gaze was caught by something small and grey escaping the pocket of Ron’s robes and scurrying across his lap. “Ron, please don’t tell me you got a rat.”

“It’s a mouse,” Ron said as he scooped up the creature and held it in his hands for Harry to see. “And her name is Cheddar. We found her in the pantry and Mum said I could keep her as a pet, so long as I make sure she stays away from our food.”

“Ugh, so I’ll be living with a mouse for a whole year,” Harry groaned as he eyed the tiny creature with disdain. 

Ron rolled his eyes as he shot Harry a slight glare. “Stop being such a girl about it. Cheddar will be a complete lady. She’s not like that dirty rat Charlie had a few years ago. He was gross and smelly and I think he used to watch me shower.”

“Are you completely sure that he wasn’t an Animagus in disguise?” Harry asked in curiosity, the laughter that wanted to burst out of him barely held back in his throat.

Ron’s eyes widened comically at the thought of some smelly old pervert disguised as a rat, living in his house and spying on him. “Don’t you bloody joke about that, Harry.”

Just as Harry was about to respond, the compartment door slammed open, the cacophonous noise ringing through Harry’s ears unpleasantly. Behind the door, a short girl with bushy hair, dark brown skin, and large front teeth was revealed. She stood with her hands on her hips and her thick eyebrows furrowed— least to say, Harry was both intrigued and frightened by her commanding presence.

“Hello,” the girl said plainly, her voice tinged with a thick Geordie accent, “have you two seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.” 

Harry groaned as he shared an exasperated look with Ron. Neville lost Trevor at least once every couple of months. It was lucky that his head was attached to his body or else Harry feared that the boy would lose that, as well.

The girl looked back and forth between the two boys in front of her with narrowed eyes. “I take it that this happens often?”

Harry nodded with a slight laugh. “Nev loses that thing all the time. Don’t worry, it’ll come hopping back to ‘im after a couple of hours.”

“Oh that’s good to know,” the girl said in relief as she made her way further into the compartment, letting the door slide shut and plopping down in the vacant seat next to Harry. 

“Oh yes,” drawled Ron sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, “do sit down, please.”

Harry gave Ron a sharp kick to the shin and turned to the girl as Ron gasped in pain and clutched his leg with betrayal shining in his chestnut eyes. “Hello, I’m Harry Potter.”

The girl smiled softly, her two front teeth digging awkwardly into her bottom lip— it was almost as though they didn’t quite fit in her mouth. “Hi, I’m Hermione Granger. It’s lovely to meet you.”

The girl— Hermione— then turned to Ron, taking in his dirt smudged face with a sligh reproach. “And you are?”

“Ron,” the boy replied, his face mirroring the disdain present on Hermione’s. “Ron Weasley.”

“Pleasure,” Hermione said in return, her tone of voice indicating the opposite of the word that she uttered. The girl turned back to Harry. “I’m glad to know that— what did you say his name was, Trevor? I’m glad to know that Trevor will find his way home.”

As if on cue, the compartment door slid open once more, this time to reveal a pudgy boy with mousy brown hair and a slimy toad clutched tightly in his grasp— Neville.

“Heya, Nev,” Ron greeted the boy amicably as he sat down. “I see you found Trevor.”

“Thankfully, yes,” Neville sighed, making sure that Trevor was secure in his hands before relaxing into the seat. “Mum and Dad were so reluctant to let me take him with me for this exact reason, so I will definitely not be telling them that I lost him the second I stepped onto the bloody train.”

Harry and Ron both cackled as Hermione reached across the space between the seats to give Neville a comforting pat on the shoulder. After the whole Trevor debacle was resolved, the train ride seemed to speed by. Harry relished in the steady flow of conversation that penetrated his ears and the calming view of the scenery rushing by out the window. Before he knew it, the train was slowing to a stop and they were there. Hogwarts castle was standing tall and proud in the distance and Harry could hardly believe that he was finally a student.

He, Ron, Neville, and their new friend, Hermione, all filed off the train and followed the crowd of students as they headed towards the lake. They nearly followed the older students towards a set of carriages before hearing a booming voice shout to them from the lake’s edge.

“Firs’ years this way! Four ter a boat!”

The boy looked up to see a ginormous man with raggedy hair and a beard that looked to be as long as Harry was tall (-- though that wasn’t too big a feat, as Harry was on the smaller side for his age group). He recognized the man to be Hagrid, the groundskeeper, as his parents had told him about most of the professors and staff before he arrived. 

“Let’s hurry to try and get a boat together,” Hermione insisted as she set off towards the boats, not bothering to turn around and make sure that the boys were following her.

Ron glanced at Harry and Neville with a roll of his eyes as the three followed slightly behind the girl. “A bit bossy that one, huh?”

By the time they reached the boats, it seemed that they were some of the last to arrive, as most of the wooden vessels had already been filled to capacity with most only having one or two empty seats.

“Oh no,” Neville groaned with wide eyes. “Looks like we’ll have to split up.”

The quartet reluctantly parted ways and Harry walked towards the first boat he saw with an empty seat— only two boys and a girl were sitting in it. 

As he approached the boat, he smiled warmly at the small girl who made eye contact. She looked like she was small in stature, her head barely reaching over the tall, wooden walls of the boat. She had a short bob haircut with blunt bangs and her pale skin reminded Harry of a vampire. 

“Hello,” Harry greeted her amicably. “Mind if I sit with you?”

The girl warily looked him up and down before reluctantly nodding. “Sure, but don’t rock the boat; I don’t fancy a swim in my robes.”

“Of course not,” Harry nodded as he took care in stepping down into the boat, being sure not to move too quickly, lest it become unstable atop the water. As soon as he was sitting, he took the time to more carefully observe the other three children in the boats. 

First, he looked at the girl, with her wary, almond-shaped eyes. She regarded Harry with a cautious gaze and the boy took note that she kept unconsciously inching her way closer to the boy that sat on her left. Harry’s gaze shifted to him next. He was definitely tall-- taller than Harry, at least-- and he had dark skin along with black hair that was cropped close to his scalp. His gaze wasn’t wary like the girl’s, but rather severe as he regarded Harry with furrowed brows. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down the line of Harry’s spine. He quickly decoded to turn his gaze to the last person that occupied the boat, immediately regretting it when his eyes were met by blonde hair and thin lips that were pulled into a distrusting sneer-- Draco Malfoy.

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted Harry cooly, his storm grey eyes staring into Harry’s very soul. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry gulped, his throat suddenly feeling like it was three sizes too small. “H-Hullo, Malfoy.”

“Did your daddy send you to spy on me?” Malfoy asked with a roll of his eyes, shifting as far away from Harry as he could get without falling out of the boat, which had started moving steadily across the lake and to the castle. “Don’t think that I didn’t see him shooting pathetic glares at my parents while we were at the station.”

Harry internally cringed. His father had been giving the Malfoys a pretty chilling stare. Harry knew that his father had warned him about conversing with the blonde boy, but right then, the glare that Malfoy was giving Harry was less evil and more sad. He couldn’t quite explain it, but it was like the looks and hostility his family had received from James earlier that morning had done quite a bit to hurt Malfoy’s feelings, and it left Harry feeling guilty.

“My baba didn’t send me to spy on you,” Harry responded carefully, not wanting to set off Malfoy’s obviously--er, delicate mood. “Your boat was the first one I saw with an empty seat.”

“Baba?” Malfoy questioned, the angriness slipping slightly from his voice accompanied by the smoothing out of his furrowed brows. “What kind of language is that, Potter?”

“It’s Bengali for dad, pretty much,'' Harry explained as he shot curious glances at Malfoy’s friends who had since relaxed after seeing the blonde boy speaking civilly to Harry. “My baba’s side of the family is Desi.”

“That’s kind of cool, actually,” Malfoy admitted begrudgingly. “I’m not really sure what kind of roots my family has.”

“Well, the Potter definitely have an extensive amount of family history books, so perhaps the Malfoys do, too?”

“Perhaps,” Malfoy responded, a distant look coming over his face as he avoided eye contact with Harry. “Oh look, we’re coming upon the castle.”

Harry’s head snapped up and, sure enough, the boats had begun to dock at the shore of the lake, the castle’s entrance a mere dozen feet away. Harry had been inside of large houses before (-- as the creator of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, Harry’s dadu made more than enough money in his lifetime to own a luxurious home), but Hogwarts was so much more. The structure looked old and worn, but at the same time it was magnificent. Harry had never seen anything like it, and he couldn’t believe that this was where he would be living for the next seven years. 

“C’mon, then, stop gawking and get out of the boat or else you’ll never see the inside.”

Malfoy’s posh voice pulled Harry out of his reveries as he turned to look at the smirking blonde. The pair then followed both Blaise and Pansy as they climbed out of the boats, their heads permanently stuck angled upwards as they took in the castle’s beauty. 

Once Harry was out of the boat, his gaze caught onto a pudgy brunette boy up ahead who seemed to be bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet— Neville. Harry gave a quick nod of his head in farewell to the trio that he had sat with on the boat ride before he made his way towards his friend, his robes swishing around his ankles as he walked.

“Nev!” Harry greeted the boy jovially, causing him to startle in surprise. “Sorry to scare you, but how was the ride over?”

Neville hesitated as he glanced down at Trevor who was squirming where the boy had him clutched to his chest. “It was alright. Trevor did try to jump in the lake quite a few times, but we made it out alive.”

Harry chuckled as Hermione came bustling up to them, Ron in tow. “I can’t believe you guys left us to sit with those absolute buffoons.”

Harry looked back and forth between the frazzled Hermione and Ron, who looked as though he wanted to die. “Who were you sitting with?” 

“Just a couple of oafs,” Ron responded with a roll of his eyes. “Right destined for Slytherin, those ones.”

“And what, praytell, is wrong with being in Slytherin?” A very familiar voice hissed from behind the four.

Harry turned around to see Malfoy glaring at Ron with icy grey eyes and a sneer curled upon his thin lips. Malfoy gave Harry a quick glance over before turning his sharp gaze back to Ron, who swallowed audibly from where he stood next to Harry.

With narrowed eyes and his sneer still firmly in place, Malfoy spoke to Ron. “No need to ask what House you’ll be sorted into. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley. Your wretchedly poor, blood-traitor sort is always stuck in Gryffindor. The House of Blood-Traitors and Mudbloods is what it should be called— never mind the House of the Brave.”

As Ron grew a darker shade of red than what he normally sported, Harry stood there blankly, his mouth gaping like his sister’s goldfish, Otto, as he found himself at a loss for words. After speaking with the blonde boy on the boat, he had been thinking that maybe his baba was wrong in judging the Malfoys so harshly, but now he could see where James was coming from. Especially after Malfoy had dared utter the cursed m-slur like it was any other common word in the dictionary. 

Before Harry could get his tongue to work in order to stand up for one of his best friends, Malfoy turned to him with a haughty smirk, an evil glint in his storm-grey eyes, and an outheld hand. “Now why don’t you ditch these losers and come along with Blaise, Pansy and I, Potter? Hang out with the right sort, eh?”

Harry frowned as he stepped away from Malfoy, nearly colliding with Neville and Hermione who had been standing rigidly behind him throughout the entire debacle. He ignored Malfoy’s hand and gave a slight shake of his head, steadying his voice before speaking. “No thanks, Malfoy. I think I’ve already found the right sort.”

Any pretense of friendliness slipped from Malfoy’s expression as he bared his teeth in a snarl and anger flooded his eyes. “Fine, Potter, but don’t come crawling to me when you get sick of keeping the company of blood-traitors and nasty mudbloods.”

Harry had to grab Ron by the elbow as the boy jumped at Malfoy’s hastily retreating figure with his fist raised in preparation to strike. “He’s not worth it, Ron. He’s just a bitter Pureblood supremacist like his father. My Baba was right when he said not to get mixed up with the Malfoys.”

“I didn’t know that the Wizarding World was just as hateful as the Muggle World,” Hermione whispered in anguish, her voice shaking like a leaf. “I thought that when I came here I would be leaving behind people who thought it was okay to be hateful just because someone was different from themself. Now I’ve arrived, only to find that instead of racial prejudice, I have to deal with blood prejudice.” 

Harry grimaced as he layed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. The poor girl leaned into Harry’s touch as she wiped away the stray tear that had been threatening to escape from the corner of her eye.

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Neville spoke with a tone of confidence that was unusual for him. “We won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Harry nodded absentmindedly as his eyes sought out Malfoy, who was now standing a good dozen feet away from the quartet, angrily sulking as he glared at Harry.

“You may or may not have just made an enemy, mate.” Ron cringed as he gave Harry a supportive slap on the shoulder. 

Neville shook his head nervously. “Oh no, he definitely just made an enemy.”

Harry sighed as he watched a woman with a loose, salt-and-pepper-colored bun and a pointy hat step in front of the group of First Years. 

“Hello students,” the woman spoke, her voice laced with a thick, Scottish accent. “My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall and I’d like to start off by personally welcoming you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

-

Professor McGonagall went on to explain that she would be leading them through the castle and into the Dining Hall where all of the other Professors and older students were already seated and waiting for them. She then went on to add that (— despite Ron’s earlier worries about dragons) they would soon be sorted into their Houses when a hat was placed upon their heads. 

“Alright now, students, follow me.” McGonagall turned on her heels and wasted no time in striding into the castle, her robes squishing hypnotically in her wake. 

“She doesn’t waste any time, eh?” Ron chuckled as he and his friends followed McGonagall and the other students. 

Harry shook his head slightly in response, his attention otherwise captured by the tall, rustic stone walls of the castle adorned by lighted candles that casted a warm glow of light over the group of students. 

Shortly, they entered the Dining Hall and the eyes of all of the returning students immediately fell on the group of First Years. Harry could feel their unwavering and judging stares, and it made him want to crawl into his mother’s bed and hide beneath her comforter as she stroked his hair. He was never one for attention— that was always Amy. If Harry had it his way, he would gladly fade into the background and blend in with the walls. 

Hermione’s voice penetrated Harry’s thoughts. “They’ve enchanted it to look like the night sky. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Harry took a second to follow Hermione’s gaze and saw that, in place of the ceiling, was a stretch of seemingly never ending stars. “It is.”

“Alright students,” McGonagall’s voice boomed as she surveyed the First Years. “One by one, I’m going to call you by name. You’ll then come sit on this stool in front of me, I’ll place the Sorting Hat onto your head, and you’ll be Sorted into your House.”

Harry watched as the first few students were called up (— Abott to Hufflepuff, Bernstein to Ravenclaw, Crabbe to Slytherin, etc., etc.), but eventually, his interest was lost, only being drawn back in time to see both Hermione and Neville walk to the Gryffindor table that held all of Ron’s school-aged brothers. 

Harry couldn’t help but hope to be sent to Gryffindor, as well. He knew that Ron was almost definitely going to the House of Lions along with Hermione and Neville, and he didn’t want to be the only of his friends to be the odd duckling. He also didn’t want to send home a letter to his father and face the man’s disappointment when he found out that Harry wasn’t following in his footsteps. 

“Malfoy, Draco.” 

Harry watched as Malfoy sauntered over to the stool, smirking out at the crowd of his anxious fellow First Years. Almost immediately as he sat, his eyes connected with Harry’s and the emotion that they held was what Harry could only describe as challenging. Harry was almost certain that, with his unwavering gaze, Malfoy was saying ‘you’ll regret what you said to me, just watch’. And he couldn’t help but feel frightened by what Malfoy meant by that. 

Almost as soon as the hat touched the very tip of the boy’s gelled back hair, it was shouting Slytherin! and Malfoy was making his way to the politely clapping table that was adorned with students wearing varying articles of green and silver accessories along with their mandated uniforms. Harry watched until Malfoy sat down and disappeared into a sea of green scarves and silver-lined sweaters. He was so distracted that he nearly missed his own name being called by McGonagall. 

“Potter, Harry.”

Slowly and with jelly-like kneecaps, Harry made his way over to the stool and sat on the scratchy surface, his face burning red at all of the attention that was focused directly on him. Merlin, he would do anything to be back at home, watching Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers along with his mother and Amy. Hell, he would gladly attempt to both bathe and put his twin siblings to bed rather than have all of those judging eyes on him. 

Harry felt the wool hat cover his unruly hair as McGonagall placed it over his head, and almost immediately startled as a deep voice flooded his mind. 

Ah, Mr. Potter. It’s been quite some years since I’ve had the pleasure of sorting a Potter. I’m sure that you expect to be put in Gryffindor just like James Potter and all of his ancestors before him, right? Well, I’m not quite sure that’s the right choice for you, Harry. While you exhibit many Gryffindor traits, I also see many signs of cunningness and ambition in you. Slytherin would fit you just as well, if not better, than Gryffindor. Yes, in the House of Snakes you would surely excel. 

Harry was sure that his stomach almost fell through his feet when he heard the Hat utter those words. It was like his worst fear was coming to fruition. He was not only going to be put in a House without any of his friends, but he was going to be forced into Slytherin! His baba would surely be disappointed no matter how many times the man had told Harry he wouldn’t love him any less if he wasn’t in Gryffindor. 

“Please not Slytherin,” Harry mumbled under his breath, hoping that the Hat could somehow understand him. “Anything but Slytherin, please, Mr. Sorting Hat.”

Not Slytherin, eh? Well, then I guess it’s got to be…

GRYFFINDOR.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that you liked the first chapter! As for an updating schedule, there's not a solid one set in stone, as I'm a full time college student and a part time employee, but I strive to update at least every few weeks. In the the future, I should have a far more concrete schedule.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry goes to his first classes and has a little mishap at dinner

The rest of the night went by in a relatively quick blur. It consisted of eating an extravagant feast made up of more foods than Harry could name, laughing with his friends ( _—_ both new and old), and finally, trudging his way up Gryffindor Tower and flopping into his new bed. 

-

The next morning, Harry awoke to a huge _bang_ coming from the bed across from him. Quickly, he scrambled for his glasses, slipping them over his eyes and throwing open his bed curtains, just to see one of his roommates— Seamus, Harry believed his name was— lying face down on the ground, his legs tangled in his sheets.

“Y’alright, there, Seamus?” Ron asked from the bed adjacent to Harry’s with a grimace marring his freckled face.

Seamus huffed and lifted his head slightly, his cheeks ruddy from what was likely humiliation. “Right as rain, Ron, right as _fuckin’_ rain.”

As if cued by Seamus’s pitiful pouting, the other four boys in the dorm burst out in laughter as Seamus plucked himself from the ground, sitting cross-legged with his back resting against the side of his bed. “You’re all right pricks.”

Harry did his best to corral his laughter down into a faint chuckle, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, standing and making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once Harry finished getting ready and had thrown his uniform on, he, Ron, and Neville met up with Hermione in the Common Room before heading down to grab some breakfast in the Dining Hall.

  
  


-

  
  


“Mum’s a _bloody fantastic_ cook, don’t get me wrong,” Ron spoke almost inaudibly through a mouthful of bangers and mash, tiny morsels of food flying out of his mouth and speckling a disgusted Harry’s face. “Her food’s great, but _this_ ought to be what the food in the Afterlife tastes like. Never had _anything_ like it.”

Ron’s brothers, Fred and George, chuckled from where they sat a couple of seats down the table. 

Fred roared with laughter as he spoke whilst George’s amusement was a bit more contained. “Careful there, Ronniekins, or else you may just cream your trousers before class.” 

Ron swallowed quickly as he glared at the two. “I had almost forgotten how nice it was to be rid of you two during the school year. You’re both just a couple of knobs—”

“Ronald.” A stern voice interrupted Ron mid-sentence. Harry looked up to see that the voice belonged to Ron’s _other_ older brother, Percy. “Cool it with the vulgar talk. McGonagall is coming around with time tables and if she hears you, you’ll have detention for sure.”

“ _Aw_ ,” cooed Fred and George in tandem as they looked up at Percy with teasing pouts.

“Perfect Prefect Percy is so keen on the rules. Isn’t he, Freddie?”

“Sure is, Georgie,” Fred answered his brother immediately, almost as if they had their schtick scripted beforehand. “Watch out, Ickle Ronnie, or else Mr. Perfect will dock Gryffindor points.”

Percy’s face grew redder than Harry had ever seen Ron’s turn (— how that was possible, Harry didn’t know) before he gave the twins a harsh glare and turned swiftly on his heels, fleeing further down the table. Fred and George’s cackling continued as Harry turned his attention onto the conversation occurring between Hermione and Ron.

Hermione’s thick brows were furrowed as she looked at the redheaded boy. “Are they always like that?”

Ron rolled his eyes as he slurped his pumpkin juice. “Pretty much, yeah. I used to love it when they came here because it meant that only me and my sister were left in the house and I got some bloody space, but I guess that’s over now, huh?”

Hermione hummed in thought. “I wouldn’t know— I’m an only child. Though, I had always thought having siblings would be fun.”

“It’s not,” Ron and Harry said in unison. Hermione looked surprised at their outburst, but the two boys had years of practice on that phrase after having to say it every time Neville would lament over his only child status. 

Hermione turned to Harry. “You have siblings, Harry?”

Harry nodded in return as he finished chewing a bite of sausage. “Yep. Two sisters and a brother.”

“Oh wow, that must be fun.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s nothing compared to Ron’s six.”

Hermione let out a huff of air in surprise and Ron gave her a look that screamed _exactly, it’s horrid._ “Maybe it’s a good thing that Mum and Dad stopped after me, aye?”

Neville nodded in answer. “Yeah, I consider it a blessing that I’m the only one. I have a plenty hard time just trying to deal with my nasty little cousins, so I couldn’t imagine having a sibling around _all the time._ Never mind _six_ of them.”

Just as Harry was about to respond, a rolled up piece of parchment was shoved under his nose. He looked up to see McGonagall holding out his time table with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. 

“Your time table, Mr. Potter,” the woman drawled as she looked him up and down with a piercing gaze. “I expect that you won’t give me as much trouble as your father did, hmm?”

“Um, I,” Harry stammered, not quite sure what to say as he was pinned down by the woman’s terrifying stare. “No, Professor, of course not.”

McGonagall seemed to think about that for a second before giving a small nod of acceptance. “Very good. I was hoping that you and your sister would take after Lily in compartment considering this school has already been cursed with two more Potter children in imminent attendance, this time with that disobedient Cobris blood _also_ pumping through their veins.”

Harry cringed as McGonagall turned on her heels and went to hand out time tables at the other end of the Gryffindor table. 

“What was _that_ all about?” Hermione asked Harry with wide, perplexed eyes. 

Harry took a deep breath before explaining. “My baba was a big troublemaker back at school along with all of my uncles. My mum was always the good, studious one. And my step-mother was a bit of a troublemaker, as well, so my younger half-siblings got _double_ the troublemaker in their DNA.”

“Poor McGonagall’s gonna go grayer than she already is when the twin terrors get to Hogwarts,” Ron lamented as he glanced over to where McGonagall was with a sympathetic grimace. “Sometimes I think they’re even worse than Fred and George, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Oi,” Fred interrupted the conversation again, this time with a small glare. “Those little brats are _not_ worse than us.”

George nodded with his twin. “Being worse than us is impossible.”

Ron rolled his eyes, ignoring his brothers as he turned to face his friends. “What class do we have first?”

“Um.” Hermione unrolled her parchment and squinted slightly as she read it. “Looks like Potions with the Slytherins and Professor Snape as our instructor.”

“Oh, Godric,” Harry groaned as he threw his head down on the table, almost landing it directly on his plate. “Kill me. Just Avada me right now, please.”

Hermione turned to face Harry with a confused expression. “Is this because of what happened with Draco Malfoy yesterday evening?”

Harry sighed as he picked his head up off of the table, instead leaning on his hand. “Not only do I have to deal with cranky Malfoy, but I also have to deal with the bloke who’s been obsessed with Mum since _they_ were in Hogwarts.”

“Professor Snape is obsessed with your Mum?” Hermione queried with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

Harry nodded slowly as he spared a glance at the sullen professor that was currently handing out Slytherin time tables with a sneer. He hadn’t seen Severus Snape often, though he’d hear _plenty_ about him from his baba and Suki. While the couple never had anything nice to say, Harry’s mother was always one to give Snape the benefit of the doubt. Whenever she, Amy, and Harry would run into the man in Diagon Alley, Lily would always paint on a somewhat forced grin and have a short conversation in which Snape would always allude to wanting to take her out on a date. 

The man would never outright _ask_ his mum out, but Harry always knew that was what he wanted. The _main_ reason that Snape irked Harry so much, was the glares that he would get from the man whenever he saw him. Harry figured it was due to how much he looked like his baba, coupled with Snape’s absolute _loathing_ for James. Amy was only ever met with ( _—what Harry assumed to be was fake_ ) half-grins. Most likely because Amy was the spitting image of Lily, only with James’s dark brown eyes and tanned, olive skin tone. 

The boy always thought it was completely ridiculous that Snape thought it was okay to take Lily’s rejection of him and James’s childhood bullying out on a _literal child_ , but Lily had always told him just to turn the other cheek and be the bigger person, which he was planning on doing for his years at Hogwarts. He didn’t need eternal detention just because Snape held on to an old grudge on his parents. 

  
  


-

After the conversation about Snape, the rest of breakfast flew by, and Harry found himself walking down to the dungeons next to Hermione, while Ron and Neville walked together a couple of paces in front of them. 

“Oh, I really hope he doesn’t assign Potions partners,” Hermione lamented, glancing nervously back at the group of First Year Slytherins and Gryffindors trailing behind the pair. “I’d hate to be stuck with someone I don’t know, or worse— someone who hasn’t done their summer reading.”

“Then I suggest you _don’t_ sit with me,” Ron threw snarkily over his shoulder as he walked. 

Hermione rolled her coffee-colored eyes. “Wasn’t planning on doing that anyways, Ronald.”

Harry huffed as he gave Ron, who was still glancing over his shoulder, a pointed look. It didn’t sit right with him the way that the boy was treating Hermione. Harry knew that Ron didn’t have much experience with being around girls— save for his mum and his little sister—but it didn’t excuse the boy’s poor attitude around their new friend. 

“We can sit together, Hermione,” Harry spoke as the quartet reached the entrance to the Potions Lab. They entered and saw a room with rows of long tables that looked to seat two people each. “That’s if you don’t mind Potions being my weakest subject.”

Hermione shook her head kindly as the pair took a seat at one of the tables that was situated in the middle of the room. Ron and Neville sat at the table in front of them. “Of course I don’t mind, as long as you did the summer reading. But isn’t your father somewhat of a Potions master? Ron mentioned he develops new potions and serums for a living.”

Harry nodded as he set his books on the table and peered warily at the cauldron that was set in front of him and Hermione. “I don’t really take after Baba in that field. He doesn’t mind so much, though, because I _do_ take after him with Quidditch, so we have something in common.”

“That’s alright,” Hermione assured him. “Not everyone is good at everything. Crikey, I don’t even know if _I’m_ good at Potions, yet. I’ve only done the reading, so far; I haven’t attempted to make anything. I could be complete rubbish at it, for all I know.”

Harry smiled at the frazzled girl. “It’s alright, we’ll learn together. If push comes to shove, I can always owl my baba for some tips.”

Before Hermione had the chance to respond, the door was slammed open, rattling the shelves of ingredients, and Professor Snape sashayed in with a flurry of his robes and a sneer set on his sallow face. 

“I assume that all of you have managed to procure the desired materials for this course,” Snape drawled, his eyes sharp and examining all of the students. His gaze caught on Harry, his black eyes going cold before he moved on quickly. “And I will also assume that you have all done the required reading. Open to the first page of the introduction.”

Harry scrambled to grab his Potions book, his mind scrambled from the deathly glare his Professor had previously sent him. As he was going to open the cover, his fingers fumbled, sending the book crashing to the ground. 

As Harry bent down to retrieve his fallen book, he could hear Hermione, Ron, and Neville all chuckling at his misfortune, causing his cheeks to flush red. 

“Did you have something you wanted to say, Potter?”

Harry cringed harshly as Snape’s grating voice boomed throughout the silent classroom. A hushed cackling broke out from the table adjacent to Harry’s and the boy peeled up to see none other than Malfoy and Blaise Zabini staring at him with evil smiles warping their faces. 

“I _asked_ if you had something to say, Potter.”

Harry looked up to see Snape standing a mere half-dozen feet away from him, glaring down his hooked nose. 

“N-No, Professor,” Harry muttered as he quickly snagged his book, sitting straight up in his chair with his cheeks aflame with sheer embarrassment. Perhaps that’s how Seamus had felt earlier that morning when he took a nosedive out of bed.

“Then _perhaps_ you can tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry’s mind immediately drew a blank. He had done his summer reading, and vaguely remembered seeing something to do with those particular ingredients, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall exactly _what_ he had read.

“Well, Potter?” Snape persisted, his eyebrows rising to his (— admittedly greasy) hairline. “Are you going to answer my question or continue to gawk at me like an ignoramus?” 

“I-I, um—.” Harry was drawing a blank. He couldn’t believe that Snape would be so brazen and obvious with his hatred, but Harry guessed that since Lily wasn’t around, the man was more likely to show his true character. 

“No?” Snape hummed matter-of-factly. “Let’s try something a bit _simpler_ , then. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Hermione raised her hand quickly as she shot a sympathetic look towards Harry. The boy was grateful for her attempted distraction, but it didn’t seem to detour Snape as he continued glaring at Harry. 

Harry sighed at the inevitable House Points that were likely to be taken away. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”

Harry’s heart lifted from where it had previously plummeted to his stomach. This one he actually knew. 

Harry gave a small, confident grin to the ever-glaring professor. “There is no difference, sir. They’re the same plant.”

Harry almost wanted to laugh at Snape’s flabbergasted expression. It was obvious that the man didn’t think he would know the answer, but Harry had his Uncle Moony to thank for his knowledge on all things werewolf. 

“Well, looks like you _don’t_ just have air floating between your ears like your useless father, Potter,” Snape sneered as he turned around and made his way back to the front of the room. “Five points from Gryffindor for disruption of class.”

Harry sighed as Ron and Neville turned in their seats to give him sympathetic looks and Hermione patted his shoulder comfortingly. He could already tell that Potions was going to be a rough class to get through. 

  
  


-

  
  


A couple of hours and a Transfiguration class later, Harry found himself sitting across from Ron and Neville, and adjacent to Hermione at the Gryffindor dining table as they sat down for lunch.

Ron groaned grossly as he shoceled a heaping spoonful of pumpkin soup into his mouth. “Potions was brutal. And McGonagall scares the bloody hell out of me.”

“McGonagall is a very respectable witch,” Hermione rebutted as she carved her pork cutlet with a sharp knife. “Powerful women tend to scare boys with fragile egos, though, so I can see why you were intimidated.”

Ron rolled his eyes as he downed a gulp of water. “And I guess you think that you’re a _powerful woman_ , too, Hermione, eh?”

“I don’t think, Ronald, I _know_ that I’m a powerful woman,” Hermione immediately retorted with a smirk.

Harry was prepared to butt into the middle of the pair’s squabble when a great cacophony of _hoots_ sounded through the Great Hall causing the boy to look up and see a cloud of owls swooping down from overhead with mail clutched in their talons.

“Mail’s here!” Ron called out as a small package and a newspaper wrapped in twine were dropped in front of him. 

Harry watched on in glee as his father’s owl, _Bathsheba_ , and his mother’s owl, _Midge_ , both hooted at each other as they flew before dropping a couple of packages each in front of Harry. 

Harry gave them each a nibble of sausage before they flew off together and then he picked up one of the envelopes that were dropped in front of him. 

He knew it was from his father and Suki, as there was a wax seal on the envelope that bore the Potter crest. 

Carefully unpeeling it, Harry set off reading with a smile etched onto his face. 

_Prongslet!_

_We’ve received the news that you’ve been sorted into Gryffindor and we couldn’t be prouder! Now all that’s left is to get you on the Quidditch team! … Suki is trying to tell me that First Years can’t be on the Quidditch team, but I just know that you can find a way, you’re a Potter man after all. I heard from your mother that old Snivellus took up the Potions position, so just watch out for him. A right git he is. Him aside, I know you’ll do great during your First Year and we’re all so proud of you! I’m going to pass the parchment over to Suki so she can say a few things._

_Love you Prongslet,_

_Baba_

  
  


_Hello Harry,_

_As your father has said, we are all very proud of you! We miss you dearly already, and cannot wait to see you for Christmas hols. Monty and Priya miss you terribly and are already counting down the days till you come back home! I do hope you’ve made some new friends and that you will remain close with Neville and Ron. Do your best in your school work and continue making us proud!_

_Love you!_

_Suki_

  
  


The small letters weren’t much, but they had Harry smiling and dabbing at tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes. Along with them, James and Suki had sent him a box of sugar quills (--his favorite, though they had been the cause for many cavities in the past) and a couple of drawings that the twins had done for him. Monty’s depicted what Hary assumed to be a big, green dragon breathing fire and Priya’s looked like a portrait of the Potter family cat, _Mister Mittens_. Harry tucked both the drawings and letters into his pockets carefully and popped a sugar quill into his mouth before opening the envelope that he assumed contained letters from his mother and Amy.

Sure enough, when he slit the wax seal and pulled out two separate pieces of white paper, a stark contrast from the yellow hue of the scrolls that Suki and his baba had written their own on.

Harry opened the first letter and immediately recognized his mother’s loopy handwriting. A feeling of homesickness clenched in his gut as he thought of Lily’s kind smile, and bright green eyes that matched his own. Living with her and Amy most of the year, Harry found himself missing their little cottage more than he missed his father and Suki’s house— though, that was not to say that he didn’t miss his father, at all, because he _did._ Turning his mind away from his melancholy thoughts, Harry began to read. 

_Harry,_

_Hello, darling! You’ve been gone not even a full day and I miss you terribly. I sent this off a couple of hours after you boarded the train to ensure that it would arrive by your first day of classes. How is everything going so far? What classes do you like most? Make sure to sit down and write a reply as soon as you can! I can’t wait to hear from you. I do hope that Severus— Professor Snape, I mean— isn’t giving you a hard time like I suspect he will. If he gets too nasty, do let me know and I’ll sort everything out with him. Also, so let me know what House you’ve gotten sorted into! I know that your father and I assured you any House would be perfectly okay with us, but we’ve both held out hope you’ll follow in our Gryffindor footsteps. Though, if your brain takes after my own, I could also see you with a place in Ravenclaw. Anyhow, do be sure to write me back, darling. I miss you dearly._

_Love,_

_Mummy_

Harry could feel his eyes welling up with tears, the heat of them fogging his glasses as he set the letter down carefully. It was well known within the Potter clan that Harry was a Mummy’s Boy, and it was becoming very evident in the way that he yearned for one of her warm hugs. He set aside his emotions and dried his eyes quickly before picking up the letter that was from Amy. 

_Hi jerk. Mum’s forced me to write your google-eyed self a letter before I’m allowed to watch the telly. I’ll bet you were sorted into stinky Slytherin, eh? Either way, when I finally get to Hogwarts, my House will be better than yours. I went shopping in Diagon Alley with Uncles Moony and Padfoot after we dropped you off at the train. I’ll bet you’re jealous. Miss your stinky butt, I guess. See you for the Christmas hols._

_Amy_

If anything, Amy’s letter was enough to put a smile on Harry’s face and a laugh in his throat. The jab about Slytherin made his stomach clench, but he forced himself to put the feeling aside for the time being. Before he could lament more over his homesickness, Ron’s voice grabbed his attention. 

“Harry, mate, have you finished eating yet?”

He looked at his friends whose attention was all on himself. By the looks of it, they were all finished eating and were just waiting on him in order to take leave to their next class of the day, _Defense of the Dark Arts._

Harry was already excited for the class, as his father had told him that, aside from Potions, DADA was his favorite class. And in Harry’s mind, absolutely _nothing_ could have been worse than Snape’s class that he’d had prior to lunch. 

Harry nodded as he took one last sip of his pumpkin juice and gathered his letters into the pocket of his robes.“Yeah, all finished. Ready to head to DADA?”

Neville nodded grimly. “I just hope that this professor is a bit kinder than Professor Snape.”

“A rabid gnome is kinder than Snape,” Ron griped as the four stood up and began to make their way to the DADA room. 

Upon their arrival, Harry was glad to note that they shared the class with Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin, so it was already shaping up to be a better experience than Potions had been. 

This time, Harry took his seat next to Ron, leaving Hermione and Neville to claim the desk in front of them. He would have liked to sit next to Neville during one of their classes, but a meaningful look between the two had decided that it was best not to confine both Ron and Hermione to a single table— if only to avoid the inevitable spats that were bound to happen. 

Ron turned to Harry, his freckled face alight with excitement, tingeing his cheeks a rosy pink. “Charlie was telling me how Professor McGregor has been here for the longest of any DADA professor. Apparently, they usually disappear after a good year or two, but he’s been here for nearly seven.”

“Hopefully that means he’s good,” Harry mused as he glanced around the room at the multitude of cages and tanks that held various chirping and twittering creatures.

Hermione turned in her seat to face Harry and Ron, her hair smacking Neville in the face. “He’s quite good, from what I hear. He got hired about four years after he graduated from Hogwarts. He was a Ravenclaw, so he was obviously very bright. Some of the articles I’ve read on him labelled him as one of the smartest wizards of his time.”

Ron rolled his eyes at the girl. “Blimey, Hermione, did ya stalk every single professor before you came?”

Hermione huffed before turning back around in her seat and whispering venomously over her shoulder, “It’s called being _intuitive_ , Ronald. Not that I suppose you’ve ever heard of the word.”

Before Ron could retaliate, the door to the classroom slammed open, startling all of the students who turned to look at the entrance where a sheeping looking man with shoulder-length blonde hair and a full beard stood, with hand over his grimacing mouth.

“Crikey, did I do that?” The man asked with an embarrassed chuckle. “So much for first impressions, huh? Well, anywho, my name is Professor McGregor. Ewan McGregor, to be more exact.”

A small murmur of greetings rumbled throughout the students as they observed the peculiar man. Harry’s gaze moved over Professor McGregor’s _interesting_ [ outfit ](https://harry-potter-aesthetic.tumblr.com/post/148859010153/x); a stark contrast from McGonagall’s sensible garb or Snape’s all black ensemble. McGregor’s style better resembled Dumbledore’s, but far less eccentric and much more modern. He was sporting a pair of pinstripe slacks, a white, ruffled button-up, with a matching, black and grey striped overcoat and beret combination. Harry wasn’t even sure if the ensemble could be considered teaching robes.

McGregor looked out at his students, a small smile revealed through the bushiness of his beard. “Alright students, I guess this is our first class, so we should probably get started.”

  
  


-

  
  


An hour and a half later, class was over and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were making their way towards the door in order to attend Charms with Professor Flitwick.

“Harry, a word?”

Harry’s head whipped around to look at Professor McGregor, the man looking at him with an expectant grin that showed off a white, gap-toothed grin. 

“Of course, Professor.” Harry nodded before turning back to face his friends. “You three go on without me. I’ll be right behind you.”

The trio all nodded before continuing their way out of the classroom. Harry turned back around to see that McGregor had plucked off his hat in the meantime, leaving behind a mess of wild, blonde hair sticking out in all directions. The man had taken a seat at his desk and motioned for Harry to take the seat next to him. As he did, Professor McGregor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin upin his outstretched palms. 

For a few awkward moments, the pair sat in silence until McGregor broke it with his raspy, Irish drawl. “This really is quite the trip, lad. You look the spittin’ image of your da, but you’ve got Lily’s eyes. It’s throwin’ me for quite the loop.”

“You know my parents?” Harry questioned the man curiously. It was rare that he met someone new who claimed to know his parents, as while he was growing up, he was used to all of his parents’ friends filtering through both of his houses, constantly.

McGregor nodded as he leaned back in his chair. “I graduated a year ahead of them, and to be quite honest with ya, I wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for your mam. Tutored me through my seventh year and my NEWTS, she did.”

Harry hummed as he filtered through all of his mother’s school friends that she had ever mentioned to him and Amy. “That’s strange, she’s never mentioned you before.”

McGregor chuckled awkwardly as he rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect her to, as we had a bit of a falling out about a few weeks before I graduated.”

“What about?” Harry asked, his thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Ah, that’s no concern of yours,” McGregor answered, his eyes avoiding Harry’s. “Water under the bridge, it is. Though, I haven’t spoken to Lily since, so I’m not quite looking forward to having parent meetings.”

“I could just have my baba and step-mother Suki attend your meeting whilst Mum attends others,” Harry offered upon seeing his teacher’s strained expression.

McGregor roared with laughter. “No, no, I fear that’d only be worse. Now, get along to Flitwick’s class, why don’t ya?”

“You didn’t want anything else?”

McGregor shook his head. “Nah, just wanted to chat for a mo’. Now, get goin’, eh?”

Harry nodded, giving the man a small, confused smile before standing and turning to follow his friends through the door that they’d disappeared through only a few moments earlier. 

When he walked through the doorway, he was met by Ron, Neville, and Hermione standing against the stone wall, waiting for him.

Harry shook his head in fond exasperation at the trio. “You lot didn’t have to wait for, you know? Now we’ll all probably be late to Charms.”

“Not if we hurry, we won’t,” Hermione insisted as she began to lead them down the corridor with a swish of her robes. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Harry who was trailing behind her with Neville and Ron. “Now, what was that all about?”

Harry shrugged as he clutched his books tighter to his chest. “No clue. He was kinda just blathering on about my mum and baba.”

Ron laughed as he slung an arm over Harry’s shoulders. “He’s probably barmy, just like the rest of the lot that Dumbledore’s hired.”

Harry hummed in consideration. “Probably…”

  
  


-

  
  


A few hours later, Harry sat back in the same seat he was in at breakfast, this time staring at the immense amount of dinner food that was laid out before him. All while Harry was having a bit of an inner war over what dish he wanted to try that night, Ron was already well on his way to taking a second turkey leg and pouring his third cup of pumpkin juice. Eventually, the boy settled on a delectable looking slab of pork roast, along with a heaping spoonful of buttery mashed potatoes and a steaming hot roll, which was slathered in some sort of garlic and parsley glaze. Finally, before tucking into his hearty meal, Harry reached out to grab the nearly overflowing pitcher of pumpkin juice-it must’ve magically been refilled after Ron had drained it, along with Seamus within the first five minutes of sitting down to eat.

As he listened to Ron and Neville drone on about whoever _Witch Illustrated_ ’s centerfold of the month was (-much to Hermione’s obvious chagrin), Harry absentmindedly started carving his piece of pork, dipping it into his mashed potatoes before allowing it to make the journey to his mouth. After swallowing it roughly with a bit of a cough, the boy reached out to grab hold of his goblet and take a quick sip of his juice, hoping to clear his scratchy throat. Satisfied with his soothed esophagus, Harry continued eating, butting to Ron and Neville’s conversation occasionally, along with Hermione interjecting her own thoughts, as well. 

Harry didn’t notice how completely _itchy_ his face really was until Hermione made a sudden outburst from next to him.

“Oh, _Harry_ ! What on Earth happened to your face?!” The girl was undoubtedly panicking over _something_ , but the gag was that Harry had absolutely _zero_ clue as to what it was that had set her off. “A-Are you having an allergic reaction to something? What are your allergies?”

Harry looked around wildly at the other occupants of the Gryffindor table who, in turn, were looking at him with wide eyes. Finally, his gaze settled on Ron, who was dumbstruck, staring at Harry with his half-devoured turkey leg frozen at the crest of his lips. “Ron, what is it? Tell me now!”

After a few agonizingly silent moments, the turkey leg dropped back to Ron’s plate, and his mouth began gaping in a way that Harry would imagine a fish searching for water would. “M-mate, you’ve got purple spots _all_ over your face and neck.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed as he threw his hands up to feel his face, now noticing the feel of the slightly elevated bumps that completely covered it. He reached out to grab his silver goblet, hoping to catch a glimpse of his reflection, and that was when he saw it. The pumpkin juice that he had been drinking held a faint, shimmery purple tint to it. Someone must have somehow slipped a potion of sorts into either his cup, or the pitcher of juice itself. Before he could say anything to his friends about this discovery, his eyes caught sight of something (- or rather _someone_ ) grinning snarkily at him over Ron’s shoulder- _Malfoy_ . Harry just _knew_ that the git had something to do with the current state of his face.   
  


Oh _,_ this was now _war._

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my college classes are nearly over for the semester, so i'll have about a month and a half free to write. hopefully that means chapter three will be up sooner than later!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](https://peachynialler.tumblr.com) or [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/addictiveheart) if I don't update within a month, because I'll need all of the motivation that I can get! Also, be warned that I am posting this on wattpad and fanfiction.net as well, so don't be alarmed if you see this fic on those sites.


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